


The Better Choice

by Marrilyn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Crying, F/F, Hugs, Hurt, Jealousy, Tears, mentions of Sam Winchester - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-16 06:08:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18088880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marrilyn/pseuds/Marrilyn
Summary: As Sam and Rowena are getting closer, you find yourself getting jealous of their time together.





	The Better Choice

You thought Rowena's friendship with Sam was a good thing, but the closer they got, the more you were coming to think it was anything but. Setting aside the whole issue of him being fated to kill her (which concerned you immensely, but, as Sam had said, fate could be changed, and with the way things were going lately you were pretty confident they'd managed to change it), they seemed to be spending an awful lot of time together.

Alone.

Without you.

At first you'd chalked it up to their Lucifer-related trauma. It was something they had in common, something they bonded over that you could never even come close to comprehend. You could comfort Rowena all you wanted; you could make promises and whisper sweet things to her, but you would never be able to fully understand what she'd been through.

Sam could.

And he did.

He talked to her, let her pour her heart out and poured out his all the same, no shame between then, no fear. They were each other's rock, each other's safe place, a haven that offered nothing but kindness and understanding for their shared misfortunes. As much as you wished you could put her mind at ease, as you'd used to, you were glad she had someone else who understood her. Someone who wouldn't betray her or take advantage of her vulnerability. Someone who genuinely wanted to help her, and had asked for nothing in return.

However, as more time passed and they hung out more, talks of nightmares and painful flashbacks seemed to take a backseat. They started talking more often, sometimes chatting online and texting into late hours of the night. One time, about a week ago, you'd caught them Skyping. Sam started seeking her help more frequently, asking her out on cases that seemed easily solvable without her assistance. The calls would arrive at least once a week. Last week it was about a pack of werewolves. This week it was a shapeshifter. Standard cases experienced hunters like the Winchesters should have had no issues solving, yet for some mysterious reason Sam was adamant Rowena's help was necessary.

You, of course, trailed along every time. Sam and Dean didn't seem to mind having you around. They were fully aware you and Rowena were a package deal; if they wanted one, they had to put up with the other.

Was that what they were doing, what Sam was doing? Putting up with you? Was Rowena putting up with you? The questions nagged at you like a persistent, annoying echo, prodding at you every time Rowena's phone rang and everything came crashing down on you all over again.

Rowena loved you. You couldn't dispute that. But sometimes love wasn't enough. What if she was tired of you constantly watching over her? What if she'd had enough of you breathing down her neck and joining her on every out-of-town trip? What if she couldn't put up with your empty promises anymore, couldn't handle your words of comfort that never did anything in the long run, that only improved the situation temporarily before it inevitably got bad again?

Sam couldn't do much more for her than you could, but at the very least he knew what she was going through. He'd been through literal hell, had been hurt at the hands of the same man that had ruined her life. He'd been hurt, and he'd suffered, and he was still suffering all the same as her. He understood her, understood her pain and fears. Understood the nightmares that kept her awake, and the random flashes of memories that ruined her days. Understood the blame she placed on herself for what had been done to her. He understood it all.

The two of them got so close that they started telling jokes, started laughing together and sharing conspiratory looks that said they knew something the others didn't, that they were in on a joke that was strictly theirs. They started telling each other life stories and sharing memories, some sad, mostly happy, a few making them share the look and chuckle, beyond amused.

Some of those memories you'd never been aware of until you'd heard Rowena mention them to Sam. The betrayal stung, shot painful surges through your heart, like electricity tearing the muscle into pieces from within, intent on making it stop dead in its tracks. What made him worthier of learning about her life than you? What made him worthy of that smile, of every happy giggle and chuckle? What made him worthy of her face lighting up like the sun when she talked to him? You'd always been there for her. You'd supported her from day one, had given her a chance when everyone else had given up on her. Had given up everything you had to go with her, to follow in her footsteps and learn the ways of magic.

Sam, on the other hand, had imprisoned her and wanted to kill her.

Stood by one of the large bookshelves, phone in hand for pretend cover, you watched them. They were seated at a table across from each other, each nursing a cup of steaming tea. Rowena had offered to make you a cup, but you'd said no, not feeling up to drinking anything. So she'd only made two — one for herself, and one for Sam.

You wished you hadn't declined the offer. If you'd said yes to tea, maybe you would've been there with them, engaged in conversation you couldn't quite hear (and, frankly, weren't even interested in) and laughing at whatever it was Sam was saying.

Instead, Rowena was the only one who laughed. The sound was lilting, a happy, joyous melody that made your heart tighten in your chest. What could he have possibly said that was so funny?

They leaned in closer to each other, foreheads touching, like they were sharing a secret. Another laugh tore from Rowena, and Sam joined in, face equally lit, equally happy. The three of you, along with Dean, Jack, and Castiel, had solved the shapeshifter case together, yet Sam was only interested in her. Interested in talking to her, having fun with her. Laughing with her. Rowena seemed awfully receptive of the attention, happily giving in.

Forgetting you in the process.

Dean, Jack, and Castiel were in the other room, treating themselves to dinner and drinks. And with Sam and Rowena engaged in their secretive little conversations, you were left all alone. No one had invited you to join them. No one seemed to even remember you existed.

To be fair, no one had said you  _ couldn't  _ join them, either. But it would have been nice to be asked, to be noticed.

Of all people, Rowena should have been the one to notice you.

She was too preoccupied with her new close, joined-at-the-hip friend to bother.

The two of them muttered something to each other and burst into another flock of laughter. Your stomach twisted painfully as if punched. Your throat felt tight as if someone had grabbed it squeezed, intent on crushing the life out of you. You swallowed and took a breath in attempts to shake the discomfort away, but it stuck to you like glue, covered you whole inside and out, potent and deadly like poison.

It wasn't jealousy, you told yourself, mortified at the mere suggestion of the green-eyed monster. You were just protective of your relationship, of Rowena. Not many people would be happy with their loved one spending so much time with the person destined to kill them, the person who had, at one point, held them hostage and wanted them dead. You were simply looking out for her, as you'd promised to do on many occasions.

And the grass was blue and the sky was green.

You sucked in a deep breath. So what if you were jealous? Anyone in your position would be. The late night chats, the frequent calls and text messages, the inside jokes and joint laughs… All of that was hard to ignore, hard to brush past. They were too close, too damn friendly. You were confident Rowena wouldn't cheat, but feelings could change. She could easily come to the conclusion that Sam was a much better suited partner for her than you and tell you it was over. Tell you she didn't need you anymore, that Sam Winchester and his dimples and giant hands (and other no doubt equally giant body parts) were all she needed. Why spend time with someone who couldn't comfort her due to personal ignorance when there was a person who'd been there, who knew exactly what she was going through and had all the answers?

Tears prickled at your eyes. You held them back, willed them away. Tried to tell yourself that wouldn't happen, that Rowena would never leave you, the girl who'd loved her since day one, for a hunter she'd only recently become friends with. But doubt pounded at you like a hammer, ate you up from the inside like acid. Sam was good for her. Friendly. Kind. Unlike you, if he said he'd protect her, he would be able to do it. He loved her — like a friend, but that love could easily grow into something more. Something quite alike to what you felt for her.

A shudder shot through you at the thought, cold and uncomfortable.

Throwing one last look to the laughing pair, you turned on your heel and headed up for the bedroom the Winchesters had lent you for the duration of your stay. You needed to be away from them, away from their happiness that seemed to suck the happiness out of you to feed it. Away from their whispers and giggles and bright, sunny smiles that used to be yours.

You doubted Rowena would even notice you were gone. She had Sam all to herself tonight, no squinting at the screen in the dark necessary. He was here, in person, and they could talk until their throats ran dry of words. They didn't need you to watch them like a creep, a third wheel to their obviously much desired alone time.

You plopped down on the bed, and as soon as your body hit the soft surface a downpour of tears poured from your eyes. The bitter liquid burned at your cheeks, puffing them up, turning them raw. A sob bloomed up in the back of your throat. You buried your face in the sheets to stifle it, a soundless, wordless scream.

You couldn't lose Rowena. You needed her like you needed air in your lungs, like you needed food and water. Life without her in it was incomprehensible, nonsensical. A fantasy so dark you didn't want to even think about it.

Rowena was all you knew, all you had left in this world. Without her you were nothing. You were alone and miserable and nothing.

Even still, if she wanted to leave, you had to let her go. It would hurt immensely; it would shatter your heart into thousands of pieces that would never knit themselves together again and leave you an irreparable mess, but it would be the right thing to do. Rowena's happiness was all that mattered. Who were you to get in the way of that?

The door suddenly opened behind you, shaking you from depressing thoughts back to the not-so-different reality.

"There you are," Rowena said. Her heels clicked as she walked inside, closing the door behind her. "You disappeared."

She'd noticed.

Despite your doubts, she'd noticed your absence.

You pulled yourself up on the bed and swung your legs over to sit on its side, back fully turned to your girlfriend. You couldn't look at her, couldn't face her after seeing her with Sam. Couldn't face her after thinking all those horrible thoughts, after imagining scenarios that terrified you to the bone to even remember.

"I'm tired," you said, a half-truth. Your voice was raspy, quiet, a dead giveaway of your distress.

Rowena noticed that, too. "Are you crying?" Concern dripped from her words, coated them in its thick layers.

"No."

"You  _ are." _ It felt like an accusation, and stung as one. She stalked over to you, the clicking following her every step like an incessant echo. "What's wrong, darling?"

You swallowed, tried to will your voice to normal. To no avail. "Nothing," you replied, rubbing your eyes. More tears fell to replace the cleared ones, blurring your vision once again like a liquid veil.

Rowena shot you a look that was almost offended. She knew you well enough to recognize lies on your lips, to recognize genuine distress in your tone of voice. Sometimes you didn't even have to say anything; one look at you, into your eyes, and she was in on whatever secret you were trying to hide. Lying to her was pointless.

You did it anyway for it hurt less to lie than to admit out loud what was going on, what really made you doubt everything you thought you knew and fear the very worst.

Rowena laid a hand on your shoulder, a soft, comforting gesture.

You shook it off, recoiled. "Don't touch me!"

Her mouth flew agape, jaw almost hitting the floor, shock etched all over her face. You'd never refused her touch before. Had never recoiled from her, never rejected her comfort, her wordless kindness. Had never turned your head away and refused to look her in the eyes.

Regret swept over you in a hot, seething rush. You hadn't intended to be so harsh. It wasn't her fault you were insecure.

It wasn't her fault you were jealous of another person giving her almost as much attention as you did, loving her as a close friend as you once did, before it blossomed into the love the two of you shared today.

"I'll ask again: what's wrong?" Rowena said in a tone that left little room for argument. She demanded answers and she would get them.

"I told you, I'm tired," you said. "I'm sorry."

Sorry for storming off like a brat.

Sorry for lying to her, for refusing her touch.

Sorry for thinking the worst.

You paused at the last thought. What if the worst had already happened? What if it would happen very, very soon?

More tears fell, hot and bitter, sharp like whips on your cheeks.

Rowena's eyebrow raised up, face curious, disbelieving. "You can do better than that."

"What do you want me to say?"

"The truth would be preferable."

"I  _ am _ tired."

"And what else?"

There was no winning this. You had to tell her, or she would keep prying until she picked the truth right out of your brain. When Rowena wanted something, anything, she got it. Even if she had to be annoying about it. The end justified the means.

Taking a deep breath for courage, you said, "I wanted to give you and Sam some space."

Rowena frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You guys seemed so chummy." So damn close it made your blood boil to even think about it. You willed your face to stay neutral, willed the hurt and anger not to show. "I didn't wanna be a third wheel. I didn't even think you'd notice me gone."

"Of course I noticed!" she said, appalled at the suggestion. "You could have joined us. We were telling stories."

You scoffed. "Of course you were."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded.

"Nothing," you muttered.

"Y/N!" Her finger shot up along with your name. A warning not to play with her, not to take her for a fool.

You sighed. Here it came — the moment of truth. "You've been telling him lots of stories lately. Some of which you never told me."

Rowena narrowed her eyes, flabbergasted. "That's your problem? That I'm telling Sam stories I haven't told you?"

Spoken like that, it seemed silly.

It was just the tip of the iceberg.

"You've been spending an awful lot of time with him," you said. It came out as an accusation.

Rowena flinched as if struck. "He's my friend. You may have noticed I don't have a lot of those," she said simply, as if it explained everything.

It didn't.

"For now," you mumbled to yourself.

She heard you loud and clear. "What's your point?"

Your eyes burned with unshed tears. Heart clenched painfully. Lungs ached for air that never came, for your breathing was too uneven and ragged to take a full breath. "Sam knows you."

Rowena looked at you as if you'd gone mad. "He obviously does."

"He  _ knows _ you," you said. "He understands you in ways I never will." It hurt to say it aloud, hurt to give your fears a voice. "He… he can help you. I can't."

A sob followed your last word, accompanied by an array of fresh tears.

"He knows what you're going through, and I don't. I can't even imagine."

You didn't want to imagine it. Seeing her broken, trembling, shedding tears that seemed to run for hours was enough for you to get the idea. Her trauma was big; no words could encompass it, no thoughts could paint an accurate picture. It had to be witnessed.

It had to be lived through to fully understand it.

And Sam had done that.

"He can do so much for you. So much more than me."

He could give her healing, could give her the much needed relief.

You, on the other hand, had nothing to offer but hugs and kind words.

"I understand why you'd prefer him," you said through a thick veil of tears. A chuckle slipped your mouth, a bitter, insincere sound. "I mean, you have a preference for men anyway. Which is fine," you added quickly, and meant it. Her preferences didn't bother you in the slightest. She'd chosen you; that was what mattered. "In this case he just happens to be the better choice."

Uncomfortable, choking silence befell you, your quiet sobs and sniffles the only sounds disturbing it. Rowena stared at you, intent, decisive, as if you were a puzzle she was trying to solve. Her eyes trailed all over your body, from the top of your head and down to your feet, then back up all over again, until they finally locked with your teary ones. Fire burned in those forest greens, wild and unstoppable, a storm looming over the horizon, testing the grounds in preparation to unleash its rage.

You glanced down, suddenly finding the floor very interesting.

Rowena kept staring. She stared and stared and stared, face blank, unreadable.

Then she opened her mouth and words shot out like a heavily pressured geyser. "Have you lost your bloody mind?!"

You heart stopped dead in its tracks, blood running cold. As if on instinct, your eyes looked back up to hers. The emerald fire burned through you, bore right into you, to the depths of your soul, like a sharpened sword.

You messed up.

You weren't sure exactly how, but you were in trouble.

"Better choice? Samuel?" Rowena ranted, outraged. "Why the bloody hell would you suggest that?"

"He understands—" you tried meekly, but were cut off.

"We've got certain… misfortunes in common, but that doesn't mean I want to shag the man!"

Her voice was like a whip, sharp and deadly. You flinched as if struck.

"You're close with him," you said.

"As I am with Jack."

"That's different," you argued. "Jack's a kid. Sam's not, and you've been spending so much time together lately."

"He's my bloody friend!" she snapped. "Since when are you so jealous? You've never minded our relationship."

_ Since you started spending every waking moment with him. _ "So it  _ is _ a relationship!"

Rowena threw her arms up in exasperation. "We're friends!"

"You can be more, if you want."

"I don't."

"Why not?"

She looked at you as if you'd suddenly grown a second head.

"He's got it all," you elaborated. "He's nice and sweet. He cares about you. And like I said, he knows what you're going through, and can help you. I can't do anything." A fresh batch of tears spilled down your face. "He seems like a better choice."

Rowena closed her eyes for a brief moment and rubbed her temples. She sucked in a breath, long and calming, and when she looked at you again, all traces of anger, of frustration were gone as if they were never there. "He's not you."

It was a simple statement. A genuine, honest one. She loved Sam, you could tell that just by looking at her, but it was nothing more than friendly love. An affection that didn't go further than platonic. Built in shared experiences and jokes rather than romance.

"I don't want Sam," Rowena said. "I don't want anyone other than you."

Her hand fell atop your shoulder. This time you let it stay there. The touch was soft and gentle; you relaxed underneath it, gave yourself over to its warmth.

"Sam knows what I've been through and he's helped me immensely, but not nearly enough as you," she continued. "The nightmares, flashbacks, crying fits…" She made an unsettled face at the memories. "You've been with me through it all."

"I didn't do anything," you said, head hanging low.

"You've done more than I could've ever asked for," Rowena told you. "I will forever be grateful to have you in my life." Her face fell. "I'm sorry if I made you feel neglected. I love spending time with Sam, but I never wanted you to feel left out."

You felt like an idiot. A stupid, overthinking idiot. This woman loved you, and here you were, thinking she wanted to leave you. "It's fine. I'm sorry for overreacting. I was just… insecure."

"Don't be," Rowena said. She took both your hands in hers, twined your fingers together in a tight knot. She was warm to the touch, loving, welcoming. "I will never leave you. You hear me?  _ Never. _ You're stuck with me for life."

You released a chuckle, prompting her to let out one of her own.

"Poor me," you joked.

"Aye," she agreed. "Poor, wee you."

You put your arms around her middle, pulled her closer to fully embrace her. Your cheek rested against her stomach. She was so warm, so soft, so perfect. So yours. She brought one of her hands to your head and started stroking it, her other one pressed to your back, holding you against her.

"Is me hanging out with Sam going to be a problem?" she inquired.

"No," you said softly, and meant it. "I'm glad you have him." She deserved a friend, deserved someone other than you to care about her.

"I'm glad I have him, too," Rowena said.

"He's good for you." Aside from the whole fated to kill her thing, but nobody was perfect. "Gonna go chat some more?"

"No." She yawned. "It's time for bed. Today's been a long day. And besides, we've got a long journey back home tomorrow."

You groaned. "Don't remind me."

She laughed. "Fancy a shower?"

"You bet," you said.

There was nothing better than a long, hot shower with your girlfriend to end an exhausting day.

**Author's Note:**

> Edited by OswinTheStrange.


End file.
